Needful Things
by Wolf126
Summary: "She was so close now that he could smell her perfume — it reminded him of white lilies and cream-covered strawberries, scratchy pine needles and wintry air. It wasn't a pleasant smell exactly, but it was familiar, and so very comfortingly Hermione." What might have happened after the DH1 dancing scene. Harry/Hermione. One-shot.


_Character(s): Harry/Hermione._

_Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing. The _Harry Potter_ series belongs solely to J. K. Rowling._

_I just wanted to try my hand at what might've happened after the dancing scene in the movie. I mean, hey, all the cool kids are doing it. ;-)_

_Constructive criticism is welcome. Please, no flames._

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**Needful Things**

**oOoOo**

Her chocolate eyes shone, seeming to catch even the smallest fragment of light in the dimly-lit room.

She was so close now that he could smell her perfume — it reminded him of white lilies and cream-covered strawberries, scratchy pine needles and wintry air. It wasn't a _pleasant_ smell exactly, but it was familiar, and so very comfortingly _Hermione_. He could even smell her minty breath as she breathed in and out, in and out, so slowly and with her bright eyes following his every movement.

The music seemed to have faded away into silence ages ago, but they still maintained their dancing position. Harry still held her waist, and Hermione still had her arms thrown around his neck. Their eyes met, emerald-green upon chocolate-brown, and neither of them wanted to break the spell that had fallen upon them. The forest was still, and there was peace. For the first time in ages, Harry actually felt safe, and Hermione felt secure, wrapped in each other's warm embrace.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. The stillness, this silence, was too strange, too awkward, too _unbearable_, and both longed for it to end and yet at the same time, wished to stay like that forever, reassuringly holding each other until the end of time itself.

It was Harry who took the initiative. Harry, who, moments before, had been contemplating Hermione's earthly beauty in such a desolate landscape. Harry, whose heart seemed to have stopped beating now that Hermione was staring at him with a strange intensity and the silence bore down on them longer still.

For a moment, his gaze flickered towards her barely-parted lips, and he seemed to be having an internal debate with himself. Then, one side triumphed over the other, and, his emerald-green eyes never leaving hers for even a moment, he leaned in to brush lips with Hermione, his so-called best friend. And, for her own sake, Hermione, too, leaned in to receive him.

Their kiss lasted little more than a single minute, lips crashing on lips like the gentle rolling of waves while a strange sensation exploded in their fingertips and quickly raced to their heads like fire — warm, liquid fire. It was a gentle kiss, and, Hermione thinks, a perfect kiss, even if it is her first.

And then, Hermione is pulling away and disentangling herself from his warmth, from his heart, and she moves to the entrance of the tent, head bent and eyes dolefully hidden. She leaves Harry in her wake, looking after her wistfully, hurtfully, _sadly,_ and he reaches after her, as if he could ensnare her in his clutches once again.

"Hermione . . ."

His voice is low. Gentle. Barely above a whisper. If she hadn't turned to look at him now, then she would have doubted that she'd heard anything at all.

She turned upon him, eyes wild with guilt, and she shakes her head slowly, biting her lip until she can taste the blood in her mouth. "No!" she cried brokenly, still backing towards the door behind her. "This . . . This isn't right, Harry. This . . . what we're doing . . . it isn't right."

"You don't know that," he told her cautiously, keen and hopeless in his intensity.

Her eyes were intent upon him now, burning, smoldering with guilt. She opened her mouth once, twice, to deny him again but no sound would come. No voice would come. For once in her life, Hermione Granger seemed speechless.

Harry continued. "What I feel for you, Hermione . . . I don't really know how I feel. I don't know if I love you, but I'm willing to give us a try."

She shook her head firmly. "No. You don't," she said flatly, and turned to leave.

"Hermione, wait," he called after her pleadingly. "Please, don't tell me how to feel. What I feel for you . . . it isn't evil, Hermione. It's one of the most amazing, exhilerating feelings I've ever had. So, please, don't tell me that I feel nothing for you."

Once again, she turned. By now, she almost seemed sick with guilt. "You're my best friend, Harry," she said slowly, purposefully. "If we . . . people would get hurt. People you and I care about." This said, Ron and Ginny's names hung silently in the air between them. "So, we _can't_."

"Hermione, I —"

"I'll keep watch tonight," she said abruptly, glancing through the flap. "You . . . try to get some sleep, all right? You get precious little these days." And with that said, she disappeared into the darkness.

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_Poor Harry. :'(_

_Please, read and review to let me know what you think. I love random messages. ;-)_


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